Only in the Rain
by xxsewnlipsxx
Summary: Aaron can't seem to get Jackson out of his head. He sneaks out of bed at night to have a smoke and thinks about their relationship. Aarson. Jackson/Aaron


**Title: Only in the Rain**

**Rating: T**

**Summary: Aaron can't seem to get Jackson out of his head. He sneaks out of bed at night to have a smoke and thinks about their relationship. Aarson. Jackson/Aaron**

**A/N: Here's another one because there's so much potential for their relationship it's maddening! Thank you for reading. Review please.**

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_Baby I've been..._

_Waiting all my life to find you_

_Always been one step behind you_

_Your love babe I've been waiting_

_All my life._

_-Waiting All my Life, _Rascal Flats

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Only in the Rain

He woke up to the sound of rain slapping noisily against his window. A rush of momentary panic dizzied him as he tried to take in his surroundings. After all, he wasn't quite used to waking up to the smell of aftershave and the press of a warm chest pressed against his back. He wasn't quite used to the heavy, wiry arm thrown across his flat stomach and the fuzz of Jackson's beard tickling the back of his neck. Aaron took a deep breath and wiped a hand down his face, feeling his heart slow down. He was home, safe, with Jackson. He wasn't bleeding in some gutter after getting in a fight. He wasn't in jail. There was no reason to be afraid.

Casting a glance at the window, he watched the rain outside. Water sloshed against the glass in great waves, and he wondered vaguely if he had heard anything about a storm on the television. Rivulets of cool, crisp liquid rushed downwards and out of his view only to be replaced in seconds by another sheet of unrelenting power and violence. Lightning flashed outside. A thin layer of fog from the combination of cool and hot obscured his view.

Jackson muttered something in his sleep, squeezing Aaron's waist, his necklace pressing against his lover's skin. Aaron swallowed and gently pried Jackson's arm from around his torso. He didn't want to wake the man up, but Aaron was feeling rather uneasy all of a sudden. He felt as though he needed some air, the closeness and the cage of walls around him making him a bit sick. Pulling back the duvet, his feet hit the floor, and he padded over to the window.

The sweet, musky scent of sex still hung in the air; it never seemed to leave his room since Jackson had moved in. Or maybe it was just a part of Jackson's scent, and because he slept in Aaron's bed every night it flavored the room. Indeed, Aaron's room had undergone quite a change. Half of Jackson's wardrobe hung in his closet, suspended atop the disorderly pile of Aaron's own clothes. Cologne sat upon the shelves. The bathroom was organized and for once not by Paddy's doing. A distinct jacket hung off the corner of the bed. When he had first figured out he was gay, Aaron would never have imagined moving in with another man. And if he had, he would have thought his room would have been downgraded in its manliness. It hadn't.

Aaron pulled on his white t-shirt and jeans, buckling the belt with deft hands, all the while watching Jackson sleep. The builder's bare chest rose and fell in time, head resting on a pillow brought from his own flat. He hadn't approved of the state of Aaron's pillows, all flat and worn out. His short, brown hair was a mess. The duvet barely covered his hips, but Jackson didn't like being covered up anyway. He appeared to be at peace, making no noise as he slumbered.

Palming the pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, Aaron padded across the room and to the door. Paddy was still asleep. Aaron hadn't looked at his clock, but he didn't have to in order to know that it was late. He couldn't have gone to bed for more than a few hours. He wondered vaguely if Jackson would note his absence. Typically, the builder was a light sleeper.

Aaron crept down the stairs and to the kitchen, cold tiles stinging his bare feet. The sweet and earthy smell of rain permeated the air as he opened the front door. The sidewalk glistened with puddles, the street coated in a lacquer sheen. Streetlights burned bright against the darkened sky. Heavy, fat clouds obscured the view of the stars that normally shined so bright. Rain fell in thick sheets and immediately drenched his hair the second he stepped out into it. Droplets clung to his eyelashes. Rivulets fell over his face, and he inclined his head, letting the warm, summer water wash the sleepiness away.

His clothes clung stickily to him, saturated as quickly as the rest of him. He took a deep breath, wondering when it was the last time he'd stood out in the rain. Thunder roared across the village, but he didn't flinch. Even as lightning split the sky, Aaron didn't feel afraid. He could remember, as most children probably can, a time when the rain meant playtime. Lightning hadn't posed a threat. He hadn't known the statistics. Life was simpler, then. A time of jumping in puddles and tossing mud at mates.

Jackson hadn't been letting him smoke lately. Apparently it was bad for him. Aaron had smirked and put out the cigarette, but he secretly smoked at work, in the bathroom, and basically whenever he could. Jackson knew, but he was smart enough not to stir the pot. They'd just argue, and what good was that? None. It just put a lot of stress on their already precarious relationship and upset Paddy. So Jackson left him alone.

Aaron pulled at the pack of cigarettes and smacked them on his hand, packing down the tobacco. He chose one and put it in his mouth, taking the lighter from where he'd shoved it in the plastic and flicking the catch. The rain made it difficult to light as his fingers were wet, but cupping a pocket of air around the lighter, he managed to make fire. Putting the lighter and pack away, he took a long drag from the cigarette. Smoke filled his lungs followed by an immediate sense of relief as the nicotine entered his blood stream and sped his heart.

He coughed once as the smoke burned the back of his throat, thrusting a fist into one of his pockets as the chill set in. There were no lights on in the village. Even the pub was probably deserted. It was a Friday night, after all. Or probably a Saturday morning. He didn't know.

For a moment, he wondered how easy it would be to kill himself. He was off on his own outside where anything could happen. Paddy was asleep. There was no one to stop him. Not that he wanted to die anymore. He hadn't been lying when he told Jackson he would never try that again. Especially not when the builder was currently warming his bed. No, he had everything he wanted and nothing could make him try to take his own life. The thought had come because he was thinking just how much had changed. A lot had happened since those nights when Paddy would practically sit outside his door just in case.

_"Yeah, he's just watching to make sure I'm not necking any bleach."_

_"No one thinks you're gonna do that."_

_"Oh? Then why'd you hide it? And now he's thinking, 'Well, what was he looking for it for?'"_

Aaron took another drag off his cigarette, chuckling lightly to himself. Yeah, a lot had changed. Paddy didn't stalk him night and day anymore. He left that to Jackson. Chas didn't have him on suicide watch. Jackson didn't flinch whenever he clenched his fist. Aaron didn't jump when Jackson touched him anymore. His relationship with Adam was looking up. He'd learned to take the jokes in stride and actually laugh at them. Things had gotten better. Acceptance felt better than disgust.

A crack of thunder made him jump, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced east and then down at his own two feet. The grass felt good beneath his toes. Once again, he was reminded of his childhood. He didn't do pointless and silly things anymore like walk around outside barefoot. Why not? When did everything become so complicated? Where was simplicity?

Maybe that was the reason why he loved Jackson, a man who strove for simplicity. A man who wouldn't drink anything with ice because it complicated the drinking process. A man who let everything on his plate mix together because it was all going the same place. A man who could solve anything without thinking to hard on it because he could always find the easiest path. A man who wanted to go on a picnic every once in a while, who wore the bare minimum always, one necklace, who let his beard grow out and hardly ever shaved.

As he was thinking that, the door opened. He turned around to see Jackson standing in his plaid pajama pants with a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders, shirtless. A look of worry was plastered on his tired face. Aaron hid the cigarette behind his back, dropping it and stomping it out. He turned his face away to blow the rest of the smoke out.

He blinked before smiling to himself slightly. What was he doing? Why had he done that? Would he have done that for anyone else?

Jackson came up beside him. "It's raining, mate. What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Aaron replied.

"You weren't there when I woke up. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I came out for a quick smoke," Aaron said evasively, trying to change the subject. Truthfully, he didn't know what he was doing outside in the middle of the night while it was storming. He could have smoked in the living room downstairs, and Jackson wouldn't have even noticed.

Jackson kept his judgments to himself, running a hand through his wet hair. "You're gonna catch cold at this rate."

"How did you know I was outside?"

He shot him a strange look. "Your window is right over the front door."

"Yeah," Aaron said, turning around. Jackson had the uncanny ability to appear attractive in anything that he wore. Aaron was convinced he could walk around in nothing but a bright purple raincoat and still pull it off. The water was dripping down his chest and neck, wetting his hair. Aaron had to stop and examine Jackson's previous comment. It seemed far more likely that the older boy would catch cold. Aaron reached forward and pulled Jackson's jacket closer around his shoulders in an unwonted moment of tenderness. "Idiot, coming out here without a shirt."

"Who's the git without shoes?" Jackson shot right back but with that goofy, crooked grin revealing pearly teeth. Aaron pushed him lightly backwards, smirking.

"I didn't think about it."

"_You_?" Jackson chuckled. "The man whose first goal in the morning is to put his shoes on? The man who wears socks to bed every night?"

"Not _every _night," Aaron mumbled, glancing away.

"Well, maybe not every night," Jackson conceded, eyes turning to the street. "So now that you've had your smoke, why don't you come in? We can have a cup of tea and chat for a bit, eh?"

"What, don't want to go back to bed?" Aaron asked.

Jackson's eyes suddenly turned hungry, the dark, chocolate brown in them making Aaron's knees weak. "If you come with me, I might."

Aaron smiled. "I'll have to think on it. Hard decision, that."

"You best hurry up," Jackson said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "The offer won't last forever."

"Cheeky bastard," Aaron laughed. Then he wondered at the sound. Things had changed, indeed. "It's my bed you sleep in, I'll have you know."

Jackson took a step closer, hot breath on Aaron's mouth, severely invading his personal space. Not that Aaron minded all that much. There was no one around to see them. And when he was drowning in those dark eyes, he didn't much care about anyone else. "What good's the bed without you in it?"

"Dunno," Aaron answered, eyes drifting down to stare at Jackson's mouth. "It worked pretty well without you."

"Prat." Jackson leaned up to kiss him, and Aaron closed his eyes. Their lips clashed, Jackson's arms going about Aaron's neck, bare torso pressed against Aaron's sticky shirt. The rain dripped from their hair, wetting their passionate kiss all the more. Jackson tasted of coffee and sweet earth. When he pulled away, Aaron practically groaned at the loss.

"You smell good in the rain," Jackson whispered in his ear, straightening out the sleeve of his shirt fussily.

"Aren't you the one who's always complaining about my cologne?" Aaron demanded, kissing him again.

"_Only _in the rain," Jackson insisted between playful nips. "Come on. I know _I'm _missing the bed."

Aaron allowed Jackson to take his hand and lead him back into the toasty warmness of the house, though it was nothing in comparison to the heat of Jackson's calloused fingers. Nothing in comparison to the molten kisses and burning tongues that battled for dominance all the way up the stairs. It was nothing compared to falling down on the staircase and feeling those fingers trail up his fevered flesh. And when they got to the bed, the fire exploded across his skin and all traces of cold water were banished. Jackson lit him on fire.

Aaron burned willingly.

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**Here's another, and there will be more. I have so many ideas, and I love them so much. If you haven't checked out Aaron's storyline, please do so, because it is just incredible. It's truly sick how much I love this pairing and Aaron's story. It hits so close to home some days. Thanks for reading. Review, please.**


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